


Third Time's a Lock

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Series: First Time for Everything [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Series, Tropes, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint goes on a two-week op without Phil and comes home to handcuffs. This is totally okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third Time's a Lock

**Author's Note:**

> Love to the_wordbutler for a great beta and super-quick turnaround. Nothing else to add, this entire series is just an excuse for all kinds of porn.

Clint gets sent on an op without Phil. It happens sometimes. Phil’s a senior handler, but the job’s as much paperwork as it is field work some days, and so Clint goes off with a different handler for a two-week op. Phil discovers that while he hasn’t been having sex for very long (a month and three days—not that he’s counting), he’s been getting it long enough he misses it.

He craves it.

He spends the days with his dick half-hard in his slacks, thinking about Clint’s hands and his mouth and the fact that he would be absolutely and completely willing to explore the joys of phone sex except the op’s in silent mode.

Because the universe hates Phil and his recently de-virginized dick.

Phil jerks off every night, spread across the bed, gritting his teeth to keep his groaning under control as he remembers the way Clint strokes around his sac and always gives the tip of his dick a lingering kiss before he blows Phil. He thinks about his mouth on Clint’s dick. He hasn’t done it much, had to build up the nerve over a week before trying it the first time, but he misses Clint’s dick in his mouth as much as he misses Clint’s hands spreading open his thighs so he can leave light, biting kisses there.

“Goddamnit,” Phil mutters when he comes. He heaves in air and stares at the ceiling and tries not to count down by the hour. He wants Clint home. Wants Clint in bed. Wants to pin him down and hold him still and lick every last inch of him.

When Clint walks in the door nine days after that thought, Phil pins him against the wall next to the entryway closet and kisses him until Clint’s pressing against him and flexing his hands in Phil’s grip and moaning into Phil’s mouth.

“Goddamn,” Clint breathes when Phil finally pulls away but doesn’t let go of him. “Miss me?”

“I bought a pair of leather restraints trimmed in fur,” Phil replies. “If you don’t want to be chained to the headboard, I am perfectly willing to give it a go.”

Clint makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a squeak. He nearly collapses to the floor, like his knees have given out. “Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t just say it like that.”

“Like what?” Phil asks, but he’s grinning, filthy and proud of himself. Clint’s spent the last month making him lose his mind through his dick. He feels it’s only fair he gets to start paying it back.

“Like you’ve been thinking about it the whole time I’ve been gone,” Clint says.

“I have been,” Phil says, and Clint breaks Phil’s grip, grabs Phil’s waist, and yanks him in tight to kiss him again.

“I’ll wear them,” Clint says. “I would fucking love to wear them.”

Phil grabs him by the back of the neck and drags him to the bedroom. When he pushes at Clint’s chest, Clint goes sprawling back onto the mattress, bouncing and laughing and toeing off his sneakers while Phil works on his own clothes.

“You got plans for me?” Clint asks as he shifts so he’s lined up with the headboard.

“I’m going to cuff you so you can’t go anywhere,” Phil says as he reaches into his nightstand and pulls out the cuffs. He tosses them to Clint, and Clint inspects them, making an approving noise in the back of his throat. “And then I’m going to suck you off until you can’t remember your name.”

Clint’s approving noise turns into a hard rush of air, and then Clint’s flat on his back, arms up, waiting for Phil to put on the restraints. “God, I have thought about this,” Clint says as Phil straddles him and pauses to run his hands up and down Clint’s chest, up and down his arms, twining their hands together for a moment.

“Yeah?” Phil asks as he wraps one restraint around Clint’s left wrist and threads the padded chain and other restraint through one of the headboard slats. 

“I’ve done it before,” Clint says. “I like it. It’s relaxing.”

Phil can understand that. It’s why he offered to be the one restrained if Clint wasn’t up for it. The idea of having someone else call the shots seems like it could be very relaxing. “Well, maybe you can relax me later.”

Clint rolls his hips up, pressing his hard dick against Phil’s. Phil has to clench his hands around the headboard slat to keep from pressing down against Clint’s dick and just rutting against Clint until he comes. “I could relax you right now,” Clint says, and his voice has dropped into his sex register, just a little lower, a little rougher. Phil lets go of the headboard and inspects Clint’s wrists. There’s a little give in the cuffs, enough that Clint can move his wrists in a circle.

“I’m good,” Clint says, and Phil takes him at his word. 

“Say stop, and they’ll come off,” Phil promises, looking Clint right in the eyes. A flush crawls its way up Clint’s chest, splotching his skin pink.

“Goddamn,” Clint says, and he arches his back and his neck and opens his mouth for a kiss Phil very happily gives him.

They only kiss for a few minutes, bodies barely touching except at their mouths. Phil still wants to rub off against Clint’s stomach, but he holds himself back, determined to appreciate every aspect of what he’s got in front of him.

Because what he’s got is Clint Barton’s trust in his hands, and damn if that doesn’t deserve what little romance Phil can muster after they’ve both jerked off alone for two weeks. He stops kissing Clint and pulls back, looks him over and grins when Clint rolls his hips up and bends his legs enough to loosely drape his ankles over one another at the small of Phil’s back.

“Oh no,” Phil murmurs, dropping down to kiss Clint’s neck, then his pec, then bite lightly at his nipple. Clint moans and shifts, and Phil lets up after a moment. “You’ve got me,” he says just before he bites the other one. Still gentle because it’s what Clint prefers, and Phil pulls away and noses along Clint’s ribs, and sucks hard on his side for three, four, five seconds until Clint’s shifting goes from turned-on to maybe-pain. 

Phil lifts his head and looks up at Clint’s face. “Okay?” he asks.

“Like, half a second too much,” Clint replies. He’s already sweating at his hairline, fingers curled around the headboard so he’s not straining at the cuffs. Phil wants to see him strain. He wonders how to do that.

“Oh, shit,” Clint says, half-laughing, and Phil knows without asking he’s got his game face on, the one he slips into when there needs to be a solution, and it needs to exist now. “What have I unleashed?”

Phil doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he reaches down and strokes Clint’s dick, lifts himself away from Clint when Clint bucks up. When he strokes down, he keeps his thumb and forefinger tight on the base of Clint’s cock and fans his other three fingers over Clint’s sac. It’s awkward, pulling at Phil’s wrist, and his fingers barely graze enough to tease, so Phil lets go of Clint’s cock completely and just cups his balls.

Clint moans, and his fingers uncurl from the headboard. The padded chain drags against the slat. Phil slides down Clint’s body, deliberately rubbing himself against Clint as much as possible, pausing for a moment to rut against Clint’s thigh. Clint’s hands curl into fists, and the padded chain slides again. 

His hand still cupping and rolling Clint’s balls, Phil decides to try one of Clint’s favorites, and places a lingering, sucking kiss to the head of his dick. 

“Holy fuck,” Clint groans. 

Phil does it again, then a third time, then shifts to pressing sucking kisses all the way down the side of Clint’s shaft. Clint breathes hard and undulates his hips, and the chain slides back and forth, back and forth against the headboard slat. But he’s not straining.

Phil lifts up Clint’s balls, reaches down with his other hand, and presses up just behind them as he sucks the head of Clint’s dick into his mouth. Clint outright _yelps_ and bucks up hard, and Phil just manages not to choke by pulling off completely before Clint finishes moving.

“Sorry,” Clint mutters. “Sorry. Jesus. Where’d you learn that?”

“There’s this thing called the internet,” Phil replies, and he can’t help the cough that follows. He doesn’t have a particularly deep mouth, and Clint’s dick had nearly hit the back of his throat. He clears his throat and looks up at Clint again. Clint’s watching him, intent and horny and simmering with want, and there’s concern in there too, that he might have hurt Phil. Phil presses the spot again— _external prostate massage_ the website had called it—and Clint slams his head back against the pillow. The chain goes taut against the headboard slat, and Phil feels victorious as he leans down and takes Clint into his mouth again.

He doesn’t really have a list of tricks yet, so he just sucks Clint’s dick and cradles Clint’s balls and occasionally pushes his finger against that spot again, and then a fourth time, both times managing to keep blowing Clint when Clint bucks up. 

“I’m gonna—” Clint says, and Phil pulls back so he’s just sucking the head of Clint’s dick when he comes. “Fuck,” Clint mutters when Phil pulls off. He’s still straining against the cuffs, every muscle in his arms and chest outlined as he pulls up.

“Do you—”

“I need you to get up here and fuck my mouth,” Clint says.

Phil can’t move for a few seconds. He just stares at Clint, at the way Clint licks his bottom lip, at the way Clint shifts his hips and juts out his chin and waits for Phil to decide what he wants to do.

Phil scrambles up Clint’s chest and grabs the headboard, positioning himself so his dick presses against Clint’s mouth. “Like this?” he asks.

“Not quite,” Clint says. He moves his arms back and forth.

“You want me to undo the cuffs?” Phil asks.

“God, no,” Clint replies. “Just getting settled.” He grins at Phil. “But thanks for asking. What I want is for you to grab my head and decide how hard you’re going to fuck my face.”

Fucking hell, Phil thinks, letting go of the headboard and cradling Clint’s head for a moment before he grips Clint’s hair in his hands. He knows Clint likes it a little rough when he’s blowing Phil, likes to be pushed around a little, likes to be told what to—

“That’s why you wanted to be cuffed,” Phil murmurs as he guides his dick into Clint’s mouth. Clint starts sucking immediately, running his tongue up and down Phil’s shaft and closing his eyes in pleasure. “Because you already know you like it.”

Clint hums, opening his eyes and looking up at Phil. He sucks harder, pulls against the cuffs, and Phil doesn’t miss the sigh of pleasure that escapes Clint as he continues to work Phil to orgasm.

“You’re amazing,” Phil groans, hands tightening in Clint’s hair. Clint sucks harder in response, and Phil pulls hard, holds Clint in place, and fucks his face for three strokes, four, five. “Clint,” he murmurs, trying to pull back, but Clint sucks in _hard_ , and Phil lets go of Clint’s head so he can clench his hands on the headboard again and hold himself in one place as he comes in Clint’s mouth.

Clint swallows. He grins when Phil pulls out. “Didn’t have to stop moving on my account,” he says, all tease and pleasure.

“Yeah, yeah,” Phil grouses, though he knows it’s true, Clint’s first time giving him a blow job had proven that just fine. He moves off Clint’s body and reaches up to undo the cuffs, but Clint suddenly drops his hands, cuffs dangling around his left wrist.

“Quick release,” Clint says. “A sub’s best friend.” His grin gets filthy. 

Phil reaches over and presses the button to release the other cuff from Clint’s left wrist. He takes them in his hands and turns them over, inspecting them now that they’ve been used once. “These are really well made,” he says.

Clint laughs. “Have I told you you’re great?” he asks, pressing against Phil until Phil lies on his back, Clint curled warm against his side. “Because you’re great.”

“Oh?” Phil asks, and he squirms when Clint tickles him lightly across his ribs.

“Yeah, you’re great. I walk in the door figuring I’ll get an awesome, welcome home blowjob, and instead I get an awesome, shackled-up blowjob, all because you wanted to try something.”

“You would be terribly bored with me if I was well-versed,” Phil teases.

“Not a chance,” Clint says. “Like you’d do any less research if you’d had sex before me.”

Phil can’t help but laugh in agreement.


End file.
